


Puzzle Pieces

by Alex_In_Their_Own_Wonderland



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_In_Their_Own_Wonderland/pseuds/Alex_In_Their_Own_Wonderland
Summary: Soulmate AU where soul marks don't match. This makes for a very confusing world where faking a soulmate is common. That's why the question is... are they all really soulmates?...Or, is one of them faking it?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Original Side(s)
Kudos: 14





	1. Cold

Virgil huffed, hunching further into his sweatshirt as his cold bag of groceries gently brushed against his black ripped jeans. He was cold enough as it was, damn it! He didn’t need his fucking  _ food _ betraying him too. The thought alone made him sigh. He was very tired and sore. 

For a moment, he wondered if taking his binder off would help. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out with it on after already wearing it for too long. Virgil shrugged the thought off, if he thought it would be a problem, he would’ve stayed home and gotten some sleep. He was fine. It’s not like they’d needed much. Just some eggs, milk, meats… more  _ cold _ things. 

Virgil shuddered again. 

The hundredth sigh of the day came when the stoplight did its job and told him to stop. If he was being honest, he’d rather risk getting run over than stand here… in the cold…

The person to Virgil’s right started to stare, and not only did it take Virgil a moment to notice, but it took him even longer to try and figure out why. There was a lot to stare at. There was a lot  _ wrong _ with him, after all. Dark hair with random purple highlights (which he  _ swears _ was a dare from a nonexistent friend), very dark eye bags that Virgil can’t hide even with makeup, and more. 

While it did take him a minute, Virgil did end up figuring it out. He was dressed head-to-toe in  _ very _ warm clothes in the middle of summer. He was also shivering, but he didn’t think the stranger could see. 

Then, out of nowhere, Virgil felt someone brush against his arm. He bristled at the contact, turning to tell whoever it was to go away when he realized--

“Do excuse me, but is your name Virgil Reeves by any chance?” the stranger asked. 

Virgil turned and saw tan skin and dark hair wearing a polo shirt. He didn’t really know why his vision was blurry, though. Maybe it was the tears? Wait why is he crying. Meeting your soulmate doesn’t start with crying. Not when you’re Virgil. It  _ ends _ with crying. 

Virgil blinked and looked at the stranger again, He could immediately tell that the man was trying to remain composed as well. 

“Depends,” Virgil finally replied, “Who’re you?”

The stranger shifted, seeming embarrassed, “Of course. My name is Logan Wright. When I accidentally brushed your arm, I felt something. When I turned around, I noticed you had a scar on your face where I have a flower right here." he pointed to a spot on his face that did not, in fact, have a flower… and I believe I am--” he cleared his throat, adjusting the striped blue tie he wore around his neck, “I believe we are soulmates.” 

“ _ What?!” _ Virgil pathetically screeched

Only outside of the house, will I get these encounters. Virgil mentally facepalmed. 

"Then, of course, I realized there was no flower on my hand right here, where my soulmate had another scar. I realized then that they must've disappeared after the two of us made contact." 

Virgil was intrigued, but growing too anxious to remain almost comfortable anywhere in public. 

The stranger then fumbled for something from one of his pockets. "You probably don't believe me-- I don't believe you," an exasperated smile, "I wouldn't believe babble like this either without being high off caffeine," he flipped his phone over and showed Virgil his screen, "but I promise it's true." 

"I don't know what kinda sadist you are, but I'm not the BDSM type, bud. Sorry." Virgil looked at the phone anyway, almost double-taking.

It was the same stranger... only it was a cheap photo. One of the ones you wouldn't really wanna show anyone. He was with someone... maybe another soulmate? Virgil felt something familiar in his face. 

This... stranger, Virgil reminded himself, this guy didn't seem to be lying. Virgil did have a scar on his forehead and eye, as well as one on his hand. He... had a lot of scars. 

"I wouldn't be surprised if your highschool nickname was flower boy." Virgil gave Logan a playful look. He didn't know what else to do. 

"Not really. They liked calling me a pansy instead." 

Virgil chuckled, "High Schoolers suck." A pause.

"So, what's your name again?" Virgil asked, "You might as well be my soulmate at this point."

The stranger offered a hand, "Right, time for a proper introduction. I’m Logan. Logan Wright. I'm from Manhattan, but I moved from Boston when I was about thirteen. I'm a Southie at heart." 

"Don't sound like a Southie." Virgil chuckled, "Nor do you sound like a Bostin baby." a smirk, "I call bullshit." 

Logan nodded, "I'll give you that. I don't have much of an accent anymore." he smiled, "I was right in the middle of Boston. Hung around more Southies than anything. Went to school in their districts." 

Virgil nodded, letting his hand drop. He refused to flinch when the grocery bag slammed into his leg, which would definitely bruise now. He noticed Logan wince a little. 

"Damn,  _ I _ could feel that." Logan chuckled, "Perhaps I could be of some assistance? I could help you carry those home." 

Nonononononono he can't know where I live I don't know him. 

Virgil visibly paled, which never seemed physically possible until it was already happening. 

"Virgil, could you breathe for me?" Logan seemed thrown off by Virgil's sudden panic, yet he remained calm nonetheless.

Virgil however, could not breathe. nOpe. He didn't even know what the fuck that was supposed to mean. It's not like he didn't want to-- he wanted to but too little oxygen too late. One thing lead to another, and Virgil was subtly hyperventilating. Tears came to his eyes as he sat there. Suffocating. 

Logan wasn't quite sure what to do either. He'd helped many different people through panic attacks, but they all had different needs that he’d known beforehand. He didn't know anything about Virgil; his likes, dislikes, interests, etc. 

"Virgil, may I place my hand on your shoulder?" Logan carefully asked. He could feel the people pushing past him and Virgil as the light turned green. 

Virgil's head shook wildly, more tears falling at the thought of being touched.

Logan nodded, "Of course. Can we maybe try a breathing exercise? I have a feeling it would be very beneficial for you." He leaned over to look Virgil in the eye, giving him an encouragingly warm smile. 

Virgil nodded, knowing Logan was right. 

So that's what Logan did. It took about twenty rounds of logan leading Virgil through a particular breathing exercise, but he didn't mind at all.

Once Virgil was "operable", Logan took him to a nearby cafe and bought him some water. After Virgil had gone through about half of it, Logan decided to depart, leaving Virgil with his number. 

"You don't need to text or call if you don't want to, but if you need help with something, anything, then feel free to call or text. I won't be bothered in the slightest." A lie on Logan's behalf, but he figured Virgil would appreciate it. He did really want Virgil to just text or call, but if Virgil didn't want to, the last thing Logan would do is force him.

"Th-thanks Logan. I'll-- I'll probably text you when I get home." Virgil shot Logan a small, which Logan returned. 

With that, Logan left, leaving Virgil actually feeling okay for once. Although, he was also tired. Very very tired. 

Virgil looked down at his water, smiling as he took a sip. Logan had unknowingly brought him to his brother's cafe without realizing it. Maybe Logan had magically known?

_ Nah, he woulda told me. _

With that, Virgil finished off his glass of water and made his water and made his way to the kitchen. When he got there, he quickly cleaned his glass and set it in the cupboard where it belonged. Once Virgil had finished with the dish, he made his way up to the floor he and his brother, Remy, lived. 

Virgil growled as the door got stuck in the frame. His almost forgotten groceries thumping against his legs; sending waves of cold throughout his body. He shoved his body weight into the door, which immediately opened. This forced him to tumble into the living room, his head crashing into the bottom of the couch with a loud bang. 

"Ow!" Virgil shot up, glaring at the door. "Fucking bastard!" 

Virgil then turned his attention to his groceries, which were now scattered all over the floor after the bag ripped. His head was throbbing, but he needed to put the groceries away before they went bad. 

Virgil rolled his eyes, quickly shooting Logan a text before slowly getting up to clean up his groceries. 

_ Hey Logan, just wanted to text and tell you I made it home safe. --Virgil  _

About half of the groceries were put away when Virgil's phone went off. 

_ While I will admit that was fast, I'm glad you're home safely. --Logan  _

Virgil chuckled to himself, the perfect comeback in mind. 

_ Well, you practically walked me home. I live above Remy's cafe, the one you dropped me off at.  _

Okay, maybe not so perfect. 

* * *

  
  
  


By the time Logan had told Virgil to go to bed so he could “maintain healthy sleep habits”, he and Virgil had gotten the basics out of the way. Virgil knew that Logan had two other soulmates, that these two other soulmates were both guys, and that they both already knew about Virgil. (This was because Logan had told them.) He knew they all took care of twins, and he knew they were precious as hell.

Logan also knew some things about Virgil, but the scary emo had been less open about himself. He knew Virgil had issues dealing with trauma, mainly because there was a lot of trauma to deal with. Once realizing this, Logan suggested they have a casual talk about boundaries. 

The talk about boundaries went further than Logan had expected, but little to his knowledge that was only because Remy had come home and helped Virgil communicate.

The two established important boundaries nonetheless. Logan was very open and made his most important boundary Virgil’s comfort. If Virgil was uncomfortable, he didn’t want whatever was happening to happen. Virgil was very honest in telling Logan that he wasn’t ready for a relationship in any way, shape, or form. He couldn’t handle it for reasons he hadn been comfortable sharing yet. Logan respected both of those choices and said he would be honored to be Virgil’s friend for however long he needed. 

_ And if you ever want to be more, I’ll be one hundred percent open to that too. _

Virgil was shocked when he read it, but by the time he started nodding off at around one a.m., he realized he was actually happy. It seemed like he’d found someone… nice. 

_ Yeah, he’ll kill me softly. _

… Hopefully. 


	2. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Hints to r*apey stuff (it's PTSD related, and in the very beginning), swearing, bruise mentions, mentions of transphobia, descriptions of being anxious.  
> (Please tell me if I need to add anything!)  
> I'd say it's pretty mild stuff, but you can never be too careful!  
> ...  
> Oop Virgil knows set design and panel painting-- he's a freelance artist who likes picking up a whole bunch of odd art jobs to get him out of the house. In this chapter, he meets Roman, and yeah :)

Virgil woke up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating. He had tears in his eyes, and he could feel the _phantom hands_ as he called them. He didnt remember what horrors he saw in his sleep, but he knew nonetheless.

With that, Virgil got up for the day. It was 4 am, meaning he slept in more than he usually did. That was nice. When he got dressed, he noticed a few new bruises that he hadn't had yesterday. He wondered if it was him or his soulmates.

He thought about texting Logan and asking, but he told himself not to worry about it. Logan wouldn't be up for a while anyway. Virgil could just ask him later.

So instead of texting Logan, Virgil got ready for his first day of work on a new project he'd be paid for. He'd been hired by a nearby theater to help with painting their backdrops. They were a little shorthanded, and running out of time, otherwise they'd said they would have done it themselves. He got his supplies (the brushes, painting jeans, etc,) and made his way quietly out the door after writing a note for Remy.

_Gone for the day. I'll be at a nearby theater working on backdrops. Call or text if you need me._

The walk was short, but it hurt nonetheless. He was walking with a heavy backpack, and his lungs weren't happy about moving at all. He'd chosen to sleep in his binder, which did the opposite of helping his physical state. 

During his short walk, Virgil wondered whether this job would be worth it or not. Sure, the pay was hella good, but... he'd worked for other theaters that paid well and made him feel like shit. No lunch breaks, transphobic set builders. Shit hours and shit tools. The more he walked, the more he felt worry creep in the bad of his mind. It was small-- barely a whisper-- but it was there. 

Maybe, this wouldn't be as worth it as he thought. 

When he reached the theater, he could feel anxiety and dread pooled in his stomach. He was a little dizzy, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. His pace picked up the closer he got anyway. He knew it would get worse the longer he walked in the heat. It was a public theater, so there wasn't much to it, but Virgil had never been so relieved to see his destination in his life. 

"Hey there!" A voice called. 

Virgil had entered the theater shyly, working his way through the seats until he was about halfway to the stage before anyone had noticed him. When the loud person had called his name though, he froze-- almost as if he were just caught robbing a jewelry store. 

"What's your name?" The voice asked. Virgil looked around wildly, trying to put a face to the name. 

"I'm to your right." the person chuckled, their lips turning in to a charming smile as Virgil finally spotted them. 

"Uh.." Virgil inched his way forward, his shoulders shifting to move his backpack as he got closer. "Virgil?" _Jesus fucking Christ dude. Who the hell is going to believe you with that voice crack like that?!_ He sighed, wondering if this is where he died. 

The person, who was holding a clipboard, nodded. "Let's see..." He took his pencil down from behind his ear, searching his clipboard carefully. "Ah! Virgil!" He looked up again, his kind eyes meeting the others'. "You'll be painting..?" 

Virgil swallowed, "The backdrops, right?" He answered nervously. _God_ does this man need an extra daily dose of confidence. 

The setworker nodded, "Yes it appears so!" He chuckled again, crossing something off of his papers. "Welcome to the club, Virgil!" they swiftly made their way towards Virgil until the two were only a foot apart or so. "My name is Roman-- stage manager." They offered a brilliantly white smile, which caused Virgil to nervously smile back. 

He offered a hand, which Virgil didn't take. Instead, Virgil opted for a sleeved fist bump. 

"I'm Virgil. He/him." He forced out. "Nice to meet you."

Roman met Virgil in the middle, adhering to his fist bump with enthusiasm. "Nice! I too, use he/him pronouns." He replied. 

There was an empty pause, but only for a moment. Within that moment, the two just-- looked at each other. Virgil grew extremely self-conscious within that moment, but he tried to ignore it. Roman probably didn't notice the way his pale limbs trembled. He couldn't see all the scars and cuts. It was perfectly normal to have Black hair, with an ombre going into a deep purple. He was fine. Roman was fine. There wasn't judgment. Of course not 

Then, the moment ended. As soon as it had started, it was over. 

"So..." Virgil found himself speaking, "Where will I be working? I'm assuming you still want today to rehearse." 

Roman seemed to be snatched out of a trance as Virgil spoke, a small jolt giving it away. He recovered quickly, though. His smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared. "Your workspace! Of course. Right this way señor." Roman offered an arm, but Virgil also didn't take that. Roman soon realized Virgil wasn't very keen on being touched, and in response, he put his arm down. Sure, it was a little disappointing, but to Roman, it was to be respected.

"So we have two options." Roman started, "You could work in the scene shop," He gestured to his right, "or, since the panels are..." Roman cleared his throat, eyes searching for the word. 

"Smaller?" 

"Yes, that one." Roman chuckled awkwardly. His hand nervously found its way onto the back of his neck, "Since they're smaller, you could work in a spare room we have down the hall." 

Virgil's eyebrows shot up. "This theater is big enough to have a _spare room_?" 

Roman frowned. "Well, it's usually used. However, the scene shop is..." A loud sound came from the supposed scene shop. It sounded a lot like a drill, "loud... I had the room temporarily cleaned out for our extra workers." 

Virgil couldn't lie. His heart secretly swelled at the thought of this guy caring about his set workers so much. For people they were _paying_ to be here. The fact that he had even thought of that, too... 

"I'll take the room... if that's okay." Virgil practically forced himself to say. 

He had to admit: seeing Roman's smiley reaction made him feel like he made the right choice. 

"Perfect!" He squealed, "I'll have Joan move the paints in there, while..." Roman scanned the stage for an extra person to help. "While _Terrence_ helps you with carrying the panels." He pointed to the shortest dude on set with a large smile. 

Meanwhile, Terrence flinched, surprised to hear his name called so loudly. He had to admit that it was a little irritating, but all feelings of annoyance disappeared when he saw Roman waving at him. _Oh, it's just him. Cool._

Virgil watched with anticipation as Terrence walked over, a swing in his step. Dark brown skin, square jaw, neatly trimmed hair, and wearing a white tee shirt. He wasn't as short as Virgil had originally thought. Huh. Funny how distance affects eyesight. He was probably close to 5'3" if Virgil had to take a guess based on his own height. 

"Terrence, this is Virgil." Roman nodded towards Virgil, "He's who we've hired for the panels." 

Terrence smiled at Virgil, offering a hand. "Hey Virgil, nice to meet you." 

Once again, Virgil went for a sleeve-covered fist bump. It was awkward at first when Terrence didn't understand that it was a fist bump, but after he realized what Virgil meant, he happily obliged. 

"Nice to meet you too." Virgil offered a more lax smile. Things were getting... a little easier, actually. 

Roman was quick to explain how things were after that. He asked Terrence to help with the panels, and it was met with a moderately enthusiastic yes. Roman then explained the couple rules they had:

Virgil has a mandatory break at noon that cannot be skipped. Eating a slice of pizza will be appreciated. No matter how big or small a task, Virgil is to never evade assistance, or asking for it. No purely discriminatory language (however, swearing is usually allowed). 

And lastly, Roman just asked him to have fun with it. Sure, they were all working, but that didn't have to be a boring or dreadful thing!

"You should get it." he nudged Virgil slightly, "You're an artist too, after all."

...

Virgil flinched when the door slammed open. He was quick to turn and look, and he was surprised to find a dude with a shitton of paint. 

"Uh... hi?" Virgil's voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke. 

"Hey." The dude said back. They moved their arms, gesturing vaguely to the shitton of paint they had. "I've got your paint. Where do you want it?"

"Uh... over there is fine." Virgil waved to the bottom of the latter he'd found. "Thank you... Joan?" It was a stab in the dark, but after seeing the small flinch, he guessed he was right. 

They looked up at him with a smug smile. "I'm guessing Roman told you?" 

Virgil nodded, then paused. "Well, he said Joan would be the one bringing the paints. Other than that, it was just a guess." He chuckled. 

"Well, then I believe a formal introduction is in order." yet another hand was offered. "I'm Joan. They/ them pronouns please." 

Virgil smiled, offering a sleeve covered hand. "Virgil. He/ him pronouns." 

The two struck up small conversation afterward. Then, Joan was off with the promise of the rest of the paints the theater had. Virgil wondered if they were serious or not. 

The thought brought a full smile and a hearty laugh. Maybe... this odd job wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to comment your thoughts because I love hearing from y'all!
> 
> See ya next time!


End file.
